'Too shallow, much too shallow,To sound the bottom of his Jemmy's mind.'
'Too shallow, much too shallow,To sound the bottom of his Jemmy's mind.'
"I am, I hope, in the last week of my stay in this paradise of mud, andfricandeaus. God! what additional ecstasies you have lost by your precipitate flight! So many pictures, which would have exercised your critical faculty; theApotheosis of St. Petronilla, by Guercino, in which a colossal dowdy on this side of the grave is transformed to a celestial beauty on the other; theFontana d' Amore, by Titian, a picture which transports you to the plains of Arcadia, or the vale of Enna; the whole-length of CardinalBentivoglio, by Vandyck—a soulpersonified—a male soul, I mean: for the mirror of all female spirit, soul, mind, and graces, would have been held up to you by Titian again, in the portrait ofhis Mistressuntwining her ringlets, or, as Petrarch would have called them, her
'Crespe chiome d'or puro lucenti.'
'Crespe chiome d'or puro lucenti.'
"Madame, dont je baise les mains, will explain this to you: and so much for what you have lost at the Museum.
"Since your departure, we have been joined by Mr. Robert Smirke, than whom no young man I ever liked more, and only wish and fondly hope he will say the same of me, when he talks of old men. I have been with him to see the house of Madame Ricamier, the ultimate standard of Parisian taste, whose enchanting bedchamber he has not only measured, but drawn with a taste which improves it. As Harriet loves Latin as well as Italian, I will gratify you both with the inscription on the pedestal of a small marble figure of Silence at the head of the bed. 'Tutatur amores et somnos conscia lecti.' Halls, who sees, observes, says little, laughs more, is frequently indisposed, and looks forward to England, requests to be remembered to you, and may be sure of his request. The inquisitive traveller, my other companion and manager,does the same, but has not forgotten that you would not let him stretch his legs on one of the beds at St. Juste.[50]He and I have been presented to the "Section des belles lettres et des beaux arts" of the Institute at the Louvre, where we were equally tired, I by understanding, and he by not understanding, what we heard.—My love to Graham—adieu, till you see me in Grosvenor-street.
"Henry Fuseli."
"10 Vendemiaire, in Christian,2d October, 1802."
"I have not yet heard from my wife: if you should be led by your calls into the neighbourhood of Queen Anne-street, and would tell them I am coming, you will do a kind thing."
The society of Fuseli, while he was in Paris, was courted by the principal painters of the French school. David, whom he had known at Rome, paid him much attention, and wished to introduce him to the First Consul; this he however declined,as well as many other civilities which this eminent painter offered, for he frequently said, "When he looked at David, he could never divest his mind of the atrocities of the French Revolution, nor separate them from the part which he had then acted, for they were stamped upon his countenance."[51]Gerard also showed Fuseli great respect, and on every occasion expressed a high admiration of his genius.
Every one who visits the galleries of the Louvre to examine its pictures and statues critically and with care, is convinced that much of their effect is lost (particularly that of the pictures) in consequence of its being generally lighted on each side by windows, and only a small proportion of the picture-gallery by sky-lights. Fuseli, who had seen and recollected most, if not all, of the celebrated pictures, of the Italian schools in particular, in the churches or palaces for which they were painted, and to which the artists had accommodated their light and shadow, was particularly struck with the difference in their effect, and deplored their removal. He likewise perceived with great regret, the injury which they had sustained andwere sustaining from the hands of the French picture-cleaners, or, as they are generally called, picture-restorers; and that, among others, the celebrated "Transfiguration," by Raphael, although it had suffered less than most, was in some degree impaired.
As the peace between England and France was of short duration, one of the objects of Fuseli's visit was lost, and his observations on the works of art then in the Louvre were not therefore published. The memoranda which he made were afterwards incorporated either in his "Lectures on Painting," in his "Fragment of a History of Art," or in the observations on the works of artists, in his editions of "Pilkington's Dictionary of Painters."
In the year 1803, he gave a picture to "The Union" Society at Liverpool: which he presented to the members, to use his own words, "as a trifling pledge of gratitude to a country which has reared the humble talents which I possess." Mr. Roscoe acknowledged the receipt of this picture by the following letter:—
"my dear friend,
"I havewaited, day by day, for the last month, in expectation of either seeing you or hearing from you; and my patience being nowquite exhausted, I can no longer refrain from enquiring what can be the reason of this alteration, or, at least, long protraction, of your intended visit to this place.
"In my last, I endeavoured to express the pleasure I felt in the hope of seeing you so soon, and only requested that I might have a line before you left London, that I might arrange matters (being now a man of business) so as to enjoy as much of your company as possible. We are now near the middle of November; the fine weather leaving us, and winter fast approaching; yet I still flatter myself that I may see you, and shall do so, till I hear from you to the contrary. Why not spend your Christmas with us, when days are short, and little professional time can be lost by it? At all events, let mehearfrom you, that I may either continue to enjoy the hope of seeing you, or reconcile myself as well as I can to my disappointment.
"It is now two or three weeks since the large case of pictures came safe to hand; "TheUnion" is placed in its proper station, where it has an uncommonly fine light, and looks extremely well. The printer of one of our papers wants to say something fine about it, and has called upon me for a description. Can you suggestwhat I shall say as to theallegoricalpart of it, or shall I try to do the best I can, both with respect to that and the execution? which could not have been more suitable, or had a better effect, if you had seen the place. I know no method that would have so direct a tendency to encourage the high style of painting in this country, as the introduction of good pictures into public buildings, and even churches; on which last subject, I hope to show you some remarks, which will appear in my Life of Leo X. now almost ready for the press. I allow this would be little satisfaction to the artist, if he was to give his time, talents, canvass, and paint, as some people do. You and I will, however, settle this point, I doubt not, to our mutual satisfaction.
"Having read thus far, take up your pen without delay, and let me at least once more see yourmagnanimous pothookson the back of a letter, addressed to your ever faithful and affectionate friend,
"W. Roscoe."
"Liverpool, 12th Nov. 1803."
"P.S. The Allegro and Penseroso are safe at Liverpool, but are much too large for any situation I can give them at Allerton."
In order to give some notion of Fuseli's projected work, for which chiefly he went to Paris, the following criticisms upon some of the pictures then in the Gallery of the Louvre may be acceptable: these he was kind enough to offer to me when I was about to visit France in the year 1814.
This picture, which is known from the print published in Crozat, deserves rather to be considered as a curiosity than as the work of a great master; its composition bears some resemblance to the cartoon of "Peter and John healing the Lame Man," of Raphael; but the simplicity and dignity of the master are lost in the crowd with which the pupil surrounded the ceremony. Though the columns occupy full as much space, and are as prominent and as full of ornament in the cartoon as in the picture, and although the principal actors are placed in both between them, they are not perceived in the work of Raphael, till we have witnessed the miracle, whilst in that of Julio, they lead us to the ceremony, which eclipses the actors in its turn.
1. The Nuptials of Cana.2. The Feast of Levi the Publican.3. The Madonna, St. Jerome, &c.4. The Martyrdom of St. George.5. Jupiter launching his Thunder on the Crimes.6. Christ carrying his Cross.7. The Crucifixion.8. The Pilgrims of Emaus.
The two first, the third, and last of these pictures, are perhaps the fullest models of that ornamental style by which a great critic has discriminated the Venetian from the rest of Italian styles,—"monsters to the man of native taste, who looks for the story, for propriety, for national, unartificial costume,—mines of information to the student and the masters of art." The most technic comprehension of a magnificent whole, and supreme command over the infinite variety of its parts, equal suavity, energy, and ease of execution, go hand in hand with the most chaotic caprice in the disposition and the most callous tyranny over the character of the subject. Whatever relates to the theory of colours, of solid, middle, and aërial tints, tothe opposition of hues warm or cold, and the contrast of light and dark masses, is poised here with prismatic truth; the whole is a scale of music. It is more by following the order of nature and of light in the disposition of the whole, that Paolo attained that illusion, which approaches to deception, than by the attempt of makingfac similesof the parts. He knew that dark, juicy, and absorbent colours come forward, that white recedes, and that the middle parts partake of both, and hence, uniting the two extremes by the intermediate tint, he obtained that superior harmony on which the Venetian school rests its superiority of colour, and which Rubens sought with unequal success in the capricious disposition of a nosegay or a bunch of flowers.
None who has seen this picture at Foligno, will recognize it here. Whatever praise the ingenious and complicated process of restoration may deserve, that of having restored to the picture its original and primitive tone makes certainly no part of it: as well might the ingredients of a dish ready-dressed by arestaurateurof thePalais Royal, be said to resemble the unprepared viands of which it is composed. I am farfrom ascribing the want of resemblance to the restoration; it could only give what remained—the bleak crudity of its aspect. The comparative imbecility of some of its parts accuse another hand that succeeded.[52]Picturesex votocan claim little merit from composition. "The Madonna" of Foligno, and the "St. Cecilia" of Raphael; the "St. Sebastian" of Titian, &c. are discriminated from each other by little else than by a more or less picturesque conception of the ground on, or before which the figures are placed: it is expression, therefore, which makes their chief merit, and this is the great loss which we have suffered in the "Madonna of Foligno." Neither the "St. John," the "St. Jerome," nor the head of "St. Francis," acknowledge the hand, the eye, or the feelings of Raphael. The "St. John," though perhaps not even in its original state sufficiently dignified, is become a savage, and what is worse, a French one. The "St. Francis," and "St. Jerome," have been tinted into insipidity; but the head of "Sigismond Conti," the "Madonna and Child," appear to have suffered less, and the angelic countenance of "The Cherub with theTablet," beams with its primitive radiance the impasto of Raphael.
Tradition has persevered to give this admirable picture, known from the print in Crozat, to Raphael. It does not, however, require more than a comparison with his other portraits, from the first to that of Leo the Tenth, to see that the donation is gratuitous; if it were to be given to any other master, Giorgione has undoubtedly the first claim upon it, and there is no known work of his which can dispute its precedence, though it agrees with them in style. That conscious purity of touch which, exclusively, scorns all repetition, visible chiefly in the nose and nostrils of theMaitre d'Armes, the unity of tone in the whole of the colour, and that breadth, which, without impairing the peculiarity of character or the detail, presents the whole at once,—dualities never attained by the dry and punctiliory Roman principles, speak a Venetian pencil. The forefinger of the right arm is perhaps not designed, or foreshortened, with the energy or correctness which might be expected from the boldness of the conception, or from the power of either Raphael or Giorgione: but the character of the hand as well as its colour,is in unison with the head. Why the principal figure should be called aMaitre d'Armesis not easily conceived; it is certainly the most important of the two, and the leading figure of the picture. The second, although full-faced, is subordinate, and can by no courtesy of physiognomy be construed into the head of Raphael, unless the heads in theTribunaat Florence, in this gallery, in Vasari, in the school of Athens, &c.; as well as the head of the figure wrapped in aFerrajuolo, and sitting in a painter's study, as meditating, by M. Antonio, be spurious. It bears indeed some resemblance to a head etched by W. Hollar, and subscribed with his name; but the authority on which that appellation rests, is too futile to be admitted.
If these be the works of John ab Eyck, there is not only an additional proof, that he could not be the inventor of oil-painting, but likewise that, for near a century after him, the colour of the Flemings continued in the same retrograde taste which checked the Italian design, from the time of Lorenzo Ghiberti to that of Leonardo da Vinci. The pictures here exhibited as the works of Hemelinck, Metsis, Lucas of Holland, Albert Durer, and even Holbein,are inferior to those which are ascribed to Eyck, in colour, execution, and taste. Compared with their composition, the pictures of Andrea Mantegna are nearly reduced to apposition; and the draperies of the three figures on a gold ground, especially that of the middle figure, could not be improved in simplicity or elegance by the taste of Raphael himself. These three figures, indeed, are in a style far superior to the rest; but even these, whether we consider each figure individually, or relatively with each other, their masses, depth, and relief, cannot be surpassed by those which are ascribed to the German, Dutch, and Flemish masters of the succeeding century. The three heads of God the Father, the Virgin, and St. John the Baptist, are not inferior in roundness, force, or sweetness, to the heads of Leonardo da Vinci, and possess a more positive principle of colour; the harmony ofchiar' oscuro, at which Leonardo aimed, admitted of no variety of tints than what might be obtained by the gradation of two colours. His carnations appear to have been added by glazing; such is the head of Mona Lisa.
The title of this picture is not accurate. It is an intermediate figure of Apostolic gait, and in garments of legendary colours, that shews the saints arrayed in white, who themselves seem less occupied by the errand for which they came, than by the place which they had left. Whatever in this picture is not vision is admirably toned, solemn, dim, and yet rich, the colours of a sacred place, and cloistered, devout meditation. Of these, St. Ambrose himself partakes; but the Apostle who addresses the Bishop, and the two Saints themselves, are by far too ponderous, and their outlines far too much defined for celestial beings, and for the clouds on which they are placed: their drapery, although admirably folded, recalls in the saints too strongly marble, and in the Apostle too palpably reality.
This figure, which has much of the genuine stern Italian colour, resembles the Dead Christ, as he is called, in the library at Basle by Holbein, in attitude perhaps,—is inferior to it in truth, but certainly much superior in style:it has much of Carravaggio; the head in shade has a mysterious effect, but the fore-part of the arm with the hand wants the rigid truth of the Italian master whom he seems to have imitated.
The countenance of this figure is as unlike Cato, as the style of colour is to all other works of Le Brun: it is a common man with a beard, powerfully drawn, and painted in an austere Italian tone.
From the extensive list exhibited, we shall select four to make a few characteristic observations—"The Martyrdom of St. Erasmus," formerly an altar-piece at St. Peter's in Rome; "The Philistines struck by the Plague;" "The Death of Saphira;" and "Winter, or the Deluge."
The actual martyrdom of St. Erasmus is one of those subjects which ought not to be told to the eye—because it is equally loathsome and horrible; we can neither pity nor shudder; we are seized by qualms, and detest. Poussin and Pietro Testa are here more or less objects of aversion, in proportion to the greater or less energy they exerted. This is the only picture of Poussin in which he has attempted to rival his Italian competitors on a scale of equal magnitudein figures of the size of life; and here he was no longer in his sphere; his drawing has no longer its usual precision of form, it is loose and Cortonesque; his colour on this scale has neither the breadth of fresco, nor the glow, finish, or impasto of oil.
In "The Plague of the Philistines," he has again laid too great a stress on objects of aversion;—instead of the effects of infection, he has personified the effluvia of putrefaction; he has indeed discriminated his story from all others of the same species, by the introduction of the mice, the temple of Dagon, the arch, and the fall and fragments of the Idol: and the variegated bustle of the colours is covered by that frowning tone, which ought to preside where "Jove hangs his planetary plague into the murky air."
In "The Death of Saphira" it is unnecessary to treat here what has been observed in another place,[53]that it is neither told with perspicuity nor adequate dignity. We shall only observe, that if the drawing and drapery of his figures be in his best style, the colour is in his worst. It presents to the eye neither light nor shade, and might furnish a definition of tints that never ought to approach each other. Thatausterity of unbroken colour which has been considered as a characteristic of the Roman school to which Poussin properly belonged, and of which the best specimen is given in the Transfiguration, admits of an euphony unattainable by the dim crudity adopted by Poussin in this picture.
For all the aforegoing defects, the last picture to be noticed, "The Winter, or Deluge," makes up twenty degrees, which, in every requisite of real painting, places Poussin in the first rank of art. It is easier to feel than to describe its powers; it is, compared with the former, the most palpable part of the astonishing difference of effect between the works of the same man when inspired by sentiment or suggested by cold reasoning. What we see before us is the element itself, and not its image; its reign is established, and by calm degrees ingulphs the whole; it "mocks the food it feeds on." Its lucid haze has shorn the sun of his beams; Hope is shut out, and Nature expires.
"The Mother of Pity" appears to me the most impressive of Vandyck's pictures in point of expression.The face of the mother, though not ideal, has elegance, and grief tempered by dignity. The Christ, extended from her lap, has less of attitude than his other Christs, and a truer colour. The bodies of the dead Christs of Vandyck, in general, appear rather transparent, silver leaf over some dark substance, and sometimes, especially in the legs, resemble some stained marble more than a body: but here we see real substance, a frame of flesh forsaken by circulation: it seems an imitation of the Christ of Caravagio, but handled with greater delicacy. The whole would, in my opinion, have possessed greater pathos, and perhaps produced a stronger effect, had he sacrificed the Angel and St. John to the solitary group of the Mother and Son.
The composition of St. Martin resembles that of Albert Durer. The countenance of St. Martin is not that of a man who will readily part with his own comforts to alleviate the sufferings of others. That of his companion has more mind, more dignity, and better forms. The paupers are excrescences of deformity; but in colouring, the picture unites every power of Vandyck and of Rubens, in a very high degree.
"Charles the First, &c." This picture may be considered in two different lights; as a picturesque composition, and as a representation of character. In the first, there cannot perhaps be conceived a more happy combination of the different materials, whose concurrence is required to constitute a harmonious whole. Nothing can surpass the comprehension which balances its masses of light and shade, equally lucid and juicy, deep and aërial, various and united; its colour at once soothes and invigorates our eye; but when we recover from the enamoured trance of technic enjoyment, we look for the character and the sentiment embodied by such art; we find, instead of Charles, a cold, flimsy, shuffling figure, with pretension to importance, but without dignity,—a man absorbed by his garment.
"La Kermesse, ou fête de Village—Kermis, or Village Gambols."—Rubens.
This is rustic mirth personified. Rapidity of conception and equality of execution equally surprise in this composition; variety and unity separate and combine its numerous groups; the canvass reels; the satiated eye might perhaps wish for a little more subordination, for a mass more eminently distinguished by white or black, to give a zest to the clogging sweetness of thegeneral form. But Rubens worked under influence, and his pencil roamed through the whole without predilection: he was not here a painter; he was the instrument of untameable mirth. There is a group in this picture which seems to have been suggested by the struggling group of two soldiers in the cartoon of the horsemen, by Leonardo da Vinci. This may be judged a cold observation; but artists must judge coldly.
Zustris.—"Venus on her bed waiting for Mars, playing with Cupid and her Doves."
This wanton conceit is a singular phænomenon on the Dutch horizon of art. We know no more of Zustris than what the catalogue chooses to inform us; but his work proves, that if he could conceive amorously, or what might be better styled, libidinously, he grew cold in the progress of execution. The face of Venus does not assist her action. The picture wants shade, and glow, and keeping; but there is an idea of elegance in the lines, and the flesh wants only shade to become Venetian.
The full value of this picture cannot perhaps be appreciated better than when it is consideredafter the examination of a portrait by Rubens. The unaffected breadth, the modest, unambitious reflexes, an air of suffusion rather than penciling, a certain resignation even in the touch, shew us Nature, rather than its image. This charming female displays a mind superior to the cares of the toilet she is engaged with, sees beyond the mirror which her lover holds, and at which her lover, if it be her lover, assists. The great merit of Titian, and perhaps his exclusive merit as to execution, is to be totally free from all pretence, from all affectation. His vehicle conveys the idea of the thing, and passes unobserved. To Tintoret, to Paolo—the thing in general served to convey the vehicle. The Miracle of St. Marc derives all its merit from that whirlpool of execution, which sweeps undistinguished all individual merit into one mighty mass. As a whole, of equal comprehension, energy, and suavity, it astonishes the common man of organs, and the artist who enters into the process of this amalgama, equally; but when the first charm is over, and we begin to examine the parts, we shall not find they were drawn forward, distanced, or excluded by propriety and character."
The intimacy which commenced in Paris, in the year 1801, between Fuseli and Mr. RobertSmirke, the celebrated architect, was kept up; and when he left England for Italy, the former gave him letters of introduction for Rome, which he found very useful. This kindness on the part of Fuseli, was acknowledged by Mr. R. Smirke in the following letter:
"Rome, March 20, 1803.
"dear sir,
"I have, you see, a second time availed myself of your permission to write to you; but as it is now above two months since I sent my last letter, you will not find the intrusion, I hope, troublesome. There is, I always feel, a sort of pleasure in communications of this kind with a distant friend, which is extremely agreeable; when writing, at the moment, I forget the distance of 1500 miles, and am talking with him. You desired I would endeavour to write to you in Italian; I must confess, however, that as yet I feel such a deficiency in my knowledge of that language as to make me afraid of venturing upon so bold a task; and as I have been so neglectful as not to attend regularly to instructions in it, I am afraid it will be yet some time before I can venture. In justification, nevertheless, I have to say that I never avoid the opportunity of being obliged to makeuse of it; and in the house I live, no language but Italian is spoken.
"It was a considerable time after my arrival in Rome that I succeeded in finding Signor Ven. Gambini, though doubtless only from want of more proper application. I found that his memory of you and your friendship with him had not failed in the slightest degree; he enquired with much kindness after you, and showed me immediately a book, in which he has preserved with care a sketch you made upon one of the leaves; the only memorial, he told me, that he had of your work. He has a bust of you, which he has placed in his principal room, between those of Clio and Melpomene; it gave me really much pleasure to see the remembrance of a friend, absent between twenty and thirty years, so warmly preserved. His reception of me was, as you may suppose, extremely kind and civil; but as I find him surrounded with books, probably in a busy employment, and that so different to mine, I have not seen much of him, nor cannot but be afraid always of being troublesome.
"It is now nearly two months since I arrived in Rome, having scarcely stopt on the road after leaving Pisa, whence my last letter to you was dated, except for two or three days at Sienna.Florence pleased me very much, from the slight view I had of it. I was there but a day, as I purpose spending a month there, at least, on my return from the southern parts of the country. The Gallery, I suppose, must be much less interesting since the French have taken so much from it; but as it is, it struck me particularly. I was much pleased with the arrangement; for though it has nothing of the astonishingcoup d'œilof the Louvre, I should think it was better calculated to shew the statues and pictures, and still more, to assist the artist who studies from them.
"I have been very highly gratified with what I have seen in Rome. The numerous remains of excellent Roman art, both in sculpture and architecture; the magnificent appearance of many of the modern buildings; the splendour of the churches, and many collections of paintings, cannot fail to make it always a most interesting place even to those who at other times have felt but slightly the excellencies of art. It has, I imagine, suffered a good deal during the last eight years. What the French have taken, (though perhaps the finest works,) is not the only loss, for the distress and poverty attending the confusions of the country have caused the sale of the best pictures in many of the collections, and a sad neglect in general of their palaces.St. Peter's did not quite equal my expectations. I never anticipatedmuchfrom the architecture; but it was in the general appearance to the eye that I was in some degree disappointed. The grandeur of the approach (the circular portico, fountains, and vestibule) is certainly most striking; but in the interior particularly, there appears to me a great want of proportion, and from the colossal boys and decorations crowding about it, the just scale much destroyed; neither do I think the richness of the finishings, or the strong glare of light admitted into the building, quite appropriate to the solemnity of its character. In the Vatican adjoining, I believe but little alteration has taken place since you were here, except in the rooms containing the statues. They are chiefly small, but have been fitted up with much elegance. The wonderful picture of Michael Angelo in the Capella Sistina is quite uninjured. Those in the ceiling will not, I am afraid, (as they ought,) resist for ever the injuries of weather. One small piece affected by damp on the outside has fallen. What a pity it is they did not observe the precaution made use of by the ancients, by which many of their fresco works remain as perfect as when first painted!A space of two or three inches was left between the wall and tile on which the stucco was laid, so that it was completely defended from all exterior damps. I was disappointed in the Arabesque paintings of Raphael in the Galleries; of course not in the design, but in the present condition; they are so injured by being exposed to the open air, as to be much obliterated. His fresco paintings in the same palace are in good preservation. Of Michael Angelo and Raphael, though I had seen but very few of their works, and certainly among the least able to appreciate their merits till I came here; I had no idea of what painters they were, nor how they could so represent Nature in all its actions.
"I have seen most of the modern artists of Rome—they are chiefly young. They have many large, bold undertakings in hand; several subjects I have seen, twenty-five feet long, either for churches, or for the Earl of Bristol, an old nobleman here of singular character, who gives sometimes much encouragement, and often beyond, I believe, even his power. The manner of painting is very like what I think I have observed among the French: much attention and minuteness in detail, while the great principal object of the story is perhaps failed in. Thereis not however, I think, so much extravagance in the representation of action, as I often observed in the modern French pictures. Among the best historical painters here are Camuccini, Landi, and Benvenuti. Of the sculptors, Canova, of course, holds by far the highest rank; many of his works are certainly very beautifully designed and executed. Next to him, one of the name of Maximilian is placed as the best. With respect to the modern architecture, both in its churches and palaces, I must confess myself somewhat surprised that the excellent models of ancient art constantly before them have not been more successfully studied. In general, I think the taste is of rather a heavy, disagreeable kind, but often a sort of magnificence in the whole effect which is imposing. I purpose now leaving Rome for a time, intending on my return to devote some time to more attentive and diligent study. My time hitherto has been employed, for a great part, in seeing all the different antiquities and buildings contained within the extensive walls of the city and in its suburbs. You may not perhaps have heard of my intention of spending two or three months in Greece, as it is within so short a time that I have determined upon it, and consequently since I communicatedit to my family at home. I have been making many inquiries here, and find it a journey practicable, and as little subject to difficulties as one can expect; I think too that one may derive more advantage from a study of the ancient works there, which are less known, and which have perhaps been the models of the finest here, than from any in this country. When writing my last letter home, in which I mentioned my intention, I thought of going by way of Ancona, where I should embark in a vessel that went to any part of Greece; since then, I have somewhat changed my plan, purposing now to go by way of Naples and Otranto, and there embarking for Corfu. It may still be nearly a fortnight before I set out, as some preparation is necessary. Greece, it appears, does not afford the little conveniences found in this country for travellers. I am very well provided with letters there from the kindness of some English I have met with here. There is one family from whom I have received much kindness, (the Earl of Mount Cashell's,) with whom I believe you are acquainted, as I have often heard you spoken of in it.
"My paper leaves me no more room than to say, if you should ever have leisure to write mea few lines, they will be received with the greatest pleasure; and wishing you the best health,
"Believe me, your very sincere friend,"Robert Smirke."
"Henry Fuseli, Esq. R.A."
"My direction will be at Mr. Fagan's, Piazza Colonna, Rome."
In the year 1803, Fuseli left Queen-Anne-Street, and took the lease of a commodious house, No. 13, Berners' Street, which had been built by Sir William Chambers for his own residence; here he remained until December 1804, when he was elected Keeper of the Royal Academy, Mr. Rigaud being then his competitor. The salary and commodious apartments allotted to this office placed him in such circumstances as to render him, in a degree, independent of fortuitous commissions. Although now in his sixty-fourth year, he retained great mental and bodily activity, and from his taste and extensive knowledge in the higher branches of the fine arts, a more judicious choice could not have been made by the Members of the Royal Academy; this opinion was expressed by his late Majesty, George the Third, when the President,Mr. West, laid before him the resolution of the Academicians for his approval.
The following anecdote connected with his election has been told, but not correctly. When Fuseli tendered himself for the office of Keeper of the Royal Academy, Northcote and Opie voted against him; but being conscience-stricken, not only on account of his abilities, but from having received favours at his hands, they considered it right to call upon him the day after the election to explain their motives. After having heard them, and in their explanation they in some degree blamed each other; he answered, in his usual sarcastic manner, "I am sorry you have taken this trouble, because I shall lose my character in the neighbourhood. When you entered my house, the one must have been taken for a little Jew creditor, the other for a bum-bailiff; so, good morning."
This year (1804) Fuseli visited Liverpool for the last time, and passed a great deal of his time while there with Mr. Roscoe: on his return to London, he wrote the following letter to Mr. Joseph Johnson, the nephew of his much respected friend of that name:—
"London, June 21, 1804.
"dear sir,
"Give me leave to return you my warmest thanks for your kindness. Though my circumstances did not permit me to spend as many hours as I could have wished under your hospitable roof, every moment I passed with you and Mrs. Johnson, added some new obligation to those which you had already heaped on me and mine, and it will be one of my warmest wishes to be able to shew, at some time or other, that my gratitude lies deeper than my lips.
"I have spent a day or two at Purser's Cross, which is the name of your Uncle's place; though in the neighbourhood of London, it is a sweet retired and healthful spot, and if he could be persuaded to spend more of his time at it, must be eminently conducive to his health. I hope Mrs. Johnson has not forgot her promise, to come and reside and nurse him there, as soon as it is in her power.
* * * * *
"Please to present my best compliments to all the friends I saw at your house, or in your company.
"I am, dear sir,"Your obedient friend and servant,"Henry Fuseli."
"Joseph Johnson, Esq."
The Biographer's Introduction to Fuseli.—New Edition of Pilkington's Dictionary of Painters, superintended by Fuseli.—Establishment of the British Institution, and Fuseli's limited Contributions to the Exhibition there.—Subject from Dante.—Fuseli's Remarks on Blake's Designs.—His Lectures on Painting renewed.—Tribute of esteem from the Students of the Academy.—Letter.—Death of Mr. Johnson, and Fuseli's sympathy on the occasion.—Fuseli re-elected to the Professorship of Painting at the Royal Academy.
InJune 1825, Mr. Bonnycastle, late Professor of Mathematics to the Royal Military College at Woolwich, who had then been the intimate friend of Fuseli for twenty-five years, introduced me to him, having observed previously to this introduction, that I should find him a man of the most extensive knowledge, quickness of perception, ready wit, and acuteness of remark, that I had ever met with. This introduction was soon followed by daily intercourse between Fuseli and myself, which ripened into the sincerest friendship, and wasthe cause of my passing with him many of the happiest hours of my life.
In the year 1805, some of the booksellers wishing to publish an improved edition of Pilkington's Dictionary of Painters, applied to Fuseli, through Mr. Johnson, to be the editor. In consequence of the solicitation of this friend, he accepted the task, but with reluctance, as he had a mean opinion of the work, and constantly designated its author a driveller. To the original he added a great number of names, and either re-wrote the lives, or inserted in notes the characters of most of the principal painters of the several schools.
At this period, a number of noblemen and gentlemen, zealous for the encouragement of the fine arts in England, especially historical painting, established the British Institution, and Fuseli was solicited to send thither some pictures for exhibition and sale. He, however, had no high opinion of the scheme; for although, in common with other artists, he wished it to succeed—for he held that "the man who purchases one picture from a living artist, which may have some pretensions to the highest class of art, does more real service to the fine arts than he who spends thousands upon the works of the old masters;" yet he thought, to use hisown words, "from the colour of the egg, it was more likely to produce an ichneumon than a sphynx;" and expressed reluctance to be a contributor. Mr. Coutts, who used every endeavour to promote the establishment and the prosperity of the British Institution, advised him to become an exhibitor, and to send, among other pictures, "The Lazar-house," observing, "I never intended to deprive you of this, it is yours, and therefore sell it, if you can." In addition to this picture, the price of which was fixed at 300 guineas, Fuseli sent "The Nursery of Shakspeare," for which he asked 150 guineas; and "Christ disappearing at Emaus:" the price he put upon this was 100 guineas. The leading members of the Institution hesitated to admit that admirable production of his pencil, "The Lazar-house," considering the subject too terrible for the public eye; and they had three meetings before they came to the resolution of exhibiting it. This hesitation on their part, a slight degree of damage which "The Nursery of Shakspeare" sustained in its removal from the rooms, and the not finding a purchaser for either of the pictures, made Fuseli resolve never to exhibit there again, to which resolution he pertinaciously adhered.[54]
In 1806, he painted from Dante, Count Ugolino being starved to death with his four sons in the Tower, which, from that circumstance, was afterwards called, "Torre della Fame;" this picture, as it came in competition with that well known subject from the pencil of Sir Joshua Reynolds, was admired and censured more than any other he had previously produced. Fuseli took the moment when Ugolino is petrified by his situation,—"bereft of tears, his heart is turned to stone;" he has represented him in a sitting posture with his youngest son stretched dead over his knees, while the other three are either writhing under the agonies of hunger, dying, or given up to despair. This picture (now in my possession) is as superior in drawing, in truth to nature placed under such circumstances, and to the story, as Sir Joshua's soars above it in colour, in manual dexterity, and inchiaroscuro.
Mr. Blake, who was not only a celebrated engraver, but known also for his original designs, distributed this year (1805) a prospectus for publishing an edition of the poem of "The Grave" of William Blair, to be illustrated with fifteen plates designed and engraved by himself. This work was patronized by the names of the principal artists of the day; butbefore he entered upon its publication, he submitted his drawings to the judgment of the then President of the Royal Academy (Mr. West), and also to Fuseli. The latter, in particular, being pleased with the wildness of the invention, wrote his opinion thereon in the following words:
"The moral series here submitted to the public, from its object and method of execution, has a double claim on general attention.
"In an age of equal refinement and corruption of manners, when systems of education and seduction go hand in hand; when Religion itself compounds with fashion; when, in the pursuit of present enjoyment, all consideration of futurity vanishes, and the real object of life is lost—in such an age, every exertion confers a benefit on society which tends to impress Man with his destiny, to hold the mirror up to life, less indeed to discriminate its characters, than those situations which shew what all are born for, what all ought to act for, and what all must inevitably come to.
"The importance of this object has been so well understood at every period of time, from the earliest and most innocent to the latest and most depraved, that reason and fancy have exhausted their stores of argument and imagery, to impress it on the mind: animateand inanimate Nature, the seasons, the forest and the field, the bee and ant, the larva, chrysalis and moth, have lent their real or supposed analogies with the origin, pursuits, and end, of the human race, so often to emblematical purposes, that instruction is become stale, and attention callous. The Serpent with its tail in its mouth, from a type of Eternity, is become an infant's bauble; even the nobler idea of Hercules pausing between virtue and vice, and the varied imagery of Death leading his patients to the Grave, owe their effect upon us more to technic excellence than allegoric utility.
"Aware of this, but conscious that affectation of originality and trite repetition would equally impede his success, the Author of the moral series before us has endeavoured to wake sensibility by touching our sympathies with nearer, less ambiguous, and less ludicrous imagery, than what mythology, Gothic superstition, or symbols as far-fetched as inadequate could supply. His invention has been chiefly employed to spread a familiar and domestic atmosphere round the most important of all subjects, to connect the visible and the invisible World, without provoking probability, and tolead the eye from the milder light of time to the radiations of Eternity.
"Such is the plan and the moral part of the Author's invention; the technic part, and the execution of the artist, though to be examined by other principles, and addressed to a narrower circle, equally claim approbation, sometimes excite our wonder, and not seldom our fears, when we see him play on the very verge of legitimate invention; but wildness so picturesque in itself, so often redeemed by taste, simplicity, and elegance, what child of fancy, what artist would wish to discharge? The groups and single figures on their own bases, abstracted from the general composition, and considered without attention to the plan, frequently exhibit those genuine and unaffected attitudes, those simple graces which Nature and the heart alone can dictate, and only an eye inspired by both, discover. Every class of artists, in every stage of their progress or attainments, from the student to the finished master, and from the contriver of ornament to the painter of history, will find here materials of art and hints of improvement!"
This opinion he allowed Blake to publish as recommendatory of his work.
In the early part of the year 1806, the Council of the Royal Academy requested that Fuseli would again deliver a course of lectures on painting, which he accordingly did, as Mr. Opie had not prepared his. This course he prefaced by the following address:
"Gentlemen,
"I once more have the unexpected honour of addressing you in this place, at the request of the President and Council, with the concurrence, and at the express desire of the Gentleman whom the Academy has appointed my successor, and whose superior ability, whenever he shall think proper to lay his materials before you, will, I trust, make ample amends for the defects which your indulgence has, for several years, connived at in my recital of these fragments on our art."
Fuseli had now been more than two years Keeper of the Academy, which had afforded the students sufficient time to appreciate the value of his instructions, particularly in the antique school. And in order to mark their sense of the advantages which they had derived from his talents, they presented him, by the hands of Mr. Haydon, then a student, withan elegant silver Vase, the design for which, at their solicitation, was given by that eminent artist Flaxman; it bears the following inscription:—
TOHENRY FUSELI, ESQ. R.A.KEEPER OF THE ROYAL ACADEMY,FROMTHE STUDENTS.1807.
The Vase, by the desire of Fuseli and the kindness of his widow, is now in my possession; and I not only value it as a beautiful work of art, but regard it as a tribute paid to the genius and talents of my honoured friend, whose memory will ever be held most dear in my recollection.
In the summer of 1809, Fuseli wished me to accompany him into the country for a short time; but as I had promised to pass three or four weeks with a relation and friend (who was much esteemed by him), the Reverend Thomas Rackett, at Spettisbury, in Dorsetshire, I could not accede to his solicitations. The following letter written to me while there, as it shews the disposition of his mind, and gives someaccount of his pursuits, may not be uninteresting in this place.
"Somerset House, 31st August, 1809.
"dear sir,
"Yourletter of the 26th, which I found on my desk at my return from Fulham, gave me equal surprise and pleasure; nothing but yourself could have been more welcome, and I should not have waited till now, to present you in answer with a scrawl of mine, had I not been desirous of obliging Mr. Cavallo by adding a specimen of Lavater's hand-writing: several old parcels of letters did I turn over, but that which contains the chirognomic characters of my departed friend, I have not yet been able to light on, and am afraid it is in some bundle of papers at Purser's Cross, to which place I shall probably return on Saturday, and on finding what I want, take care to remit it to you for Don Tiberio.[55]
"The spirit in which you wrote your letter,makes me happy; a mind like yours, fraught with all the requisites for genuine pleasure, is sure to find it or to make it in every place; how much must you enjoy then in the friendly mansion which separates you from me and those real friends you have left here!
"Your account of the Nunneries you have visited, confirms Hamlets verdict: 'Frailty, thy name is woman!' How self-contradictory, that the 'animal of beauty,' as Dante calls woman, should exchange her claims to social admiration and pleasure, and the substantial charms of life, for the sterile embraces of a crucifix or some withered sister, by the dim glimmer of cloistered light,—lost to hope, and marked by oblivion for her own! Tyranny, deception, and most of all, that substitute for every other want, 'the undistinguished space of woman's will,' can alone account for such phenomena.
"September 1st.
"Sofar I went yesterday, when luckily some one prevented the process of my letter, and opening to-day a parcel I had not thought of before, I found some letters, &c. of Lavater's: what I have enclosed, is the address of one written to me when I lived in St. Martin's Lane; be so kind to present it to your friend.
"What you say of Mr. Rackett's politeness, is extremely flattering, and I beg you will return my respects and best wishes to him and the ladies. As the weather has been so unpropitious, I do not expect to hear of many entomological captures or discoveries: I beg to inform him, that of some pupæ ofSphinx euphorbiæ, found on the spurge of the Devonshire sands, I have reared, perhaps for the first time in England, two beautiful moths.
"My wife is still at Woolwich. Mr. Haughton's respects attend you: and I,
"My dear Sir, remain"Affectionately and sincerely yours,"Henry Fuseli."
"To John Knowles, Esq."
I have already noticed the social intimacy which subsisted for so long a time between Fuseli and Mr. Johnson the bookseller; the latter had been afflicted with an asthma for many years. In the month of December, 1809, he had an alarming attack of this disorder, which increasing rapidly, a message was sent to Fuseli, intimating that if he wished again to see Mr. Johnson, he must come without delay. A carriage was instantly ordered, and as it drewup, Mr. Carrick Moore the Surgeon, of whose abilities, Fuseli had the highest opinion, accidently arrived at the Academy. Fuseli, who was in tears and in violent agitation, cried out, "Come with me, I beseech you, Moore, and save, if possible, my valued friend, Johnson." On their arrival at Mr. Johnson's house, in St. Paul's Church-yard, they found him breathing with difficulty, his countenance ghastly, his limbs cold, and his quivering pulse hardly perceptible; he, however, recognised Fuseli, and expressed pleasure at seeing him. But no means which were tried could restore the sinking energies of the vital functions, and the patient in a short time ceased to live.
As Fuseli had been on terms of intimacy and of the strictest friendship with Johnson for nearly forty years, this sad event shocked his sensitive heart. He wrote the day after to Mr. Joseph Johnson, the nephew, in the following terms:—
"London, Somerset House, 21st Dec. 1829.
"my dear sir,
"Asthe present melancholy occasion must bring you, and perhaps Mrs. Johnson, to London, permit me to request the favour of yourremaining with us, and taking a bed at our house during your stay.
"If my grief for the loss of my first and best friend were less excessive, I might endeavour to moderate your's; but I want consolation too much myself to offer it to others.
"My wife joins in my request to you and Mrs. Johnson, and we both remain ever your faithful but disconsolate friends,
"Sophia and Henry Fuseli."
"Joseph Johnson, Esq."
Mr. Johnson was regretted not only by a numerous circle of private friends, but by the literary world in general. Many authors now living, and others who have paid the debt of nature, were fostered by his bounty, and but for his encouragement the world would have been deprived of most of the beautiful poems of Cowper; for, when "The Task," not being appreciated by the public, met with a very tardy sale, its author had made up his mind to write no more. Mr. Johnson, who was well aware of the merits of this poem, urged him to proceed, stating, that he had no doubt it would finally receive that favour from the public which it so justly merited. This expectationwas afterwards realized to its utmost extent, and the author received from his publisher a handsome but unexpected gratuity.[56]
Mr. Johnson was a man of probity, liberality, and sound sense, with an acute judgment. The author of this memoir, who witnessed the urbanity of his manners, and partook of the hospitality of his table at least once a-week for some years, can bear testimony to these, as well as to the good sense which he exercised, and the prudence with which he allayed the occasional contests of his irritable guests, many of whom were distinguished men of letters, of various characters, and conflicting opinions. And although the conversation took a free range, yet the placid equanimity of their host regulated in some degree its freedom, and kept it within due bounds. Fuseli was always a favoured guest at this table; when absent, which rarely happened, a gloom for the time pervaded the company: but, when present, his acute taste in poetry, oratory, and the fine arts; his original opinions, singular ideas, and poignant wit, enlivened the conversation, and rendered him adelightful companion. On these occasions, however, Johnson was rather a listener than a contributor; but he enjoyed the animated remarks and retorts of his amusing friend, and in his will left him a handsome legacy.
Fuseli wrote the following epitaph, which gives a just and unvarnished character of this amiable man, and which is placed on his tomb in the church-yard of Fulham:—
HERE LIE THE REMAINS OFJOSEPH JOHNSON, LATE OF ST. PAUL'S, LONDON,WHO DEPARTED THIS LIFE ON THE 20TH DAY OFDECEMBER, 1809, AGED 72 YEARS.A MANEQUALLY DISTINGUISHED BY PROBITY, INDUSTRY,AND DISINTERESTEDNESS IN HIS INTERCOURSEWITH THE PUBLIC, AND EVERY DOMESTIC AND SOCIALVIRTUE IN LIFE; BENEFICENT WITHOUTOSTENTATION, EVER READY TO PRODUCE MERITAND TO RELIEVE DISTRESS; UNASSUMING IN PROSPERITY,NOT APPALLED BY MISFORTUNE; INEXORABLETO HIS OWN, INDULGENT TO THE WANTSOF OTHERS; RESIGNED AND CHEERFUL UNDER THETORTURE OF A MALADY WHICH HE SAW GRADUALLYDESTROY HIS LIFE.
The death of Opie, which took place rather unexpectedly, in 1807, after he had delivered only four lectures at the Royal Academy, in which he availed himself of several remarks of Fuseli in his unpublished discourses, caused a vacancy in the Professorship, which was filled by the election of Mr. Tresham. This appointment he held until the early part of the year 1810, and then tendered his resignation, declining to lecture under the plea of indisposition. The Academicians met for the purpose of electing a Professor of Painting; but no one offering himself, all being aware of the great talents of Fuseli in this particular, they came to a resolution, that a law which forbids the same person to hold two situations, should be dormant in his case; he was therefore re-elected Professor of Painting on the 10th of February, 1810, and was allowed to retain the joint offices of Keeper of the Academy and Professor of Painting during the remainder of his life. A higher compliment than this could not have been paid to any man, and it marked in an extraordinary manner the estimation in which his talents were held.